


And So, To Bed, the Bella version

by Bead



Series: And So, To Bed [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/M, Female Bilbo, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, First Time, Flirting, Innuendo, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this luscious <a href="http://aegileif.deviantart.com/art/Thorin-410300632">fan art </a> by Aegilef.  It's just utterly gorgeous, and how could my imagination not take me somewhere.  </p><p>And I think that somewhere is Laketown, and Thorin suggests that Bella go to bed.  Very suggestively suggests.  And suggests quite a bit.   Just a suggestion.  </p><p>One of my darling readers, skmitton, sweetly requested a fem!Bilbo version, and, well, my mind started running down that track.  And then it started sprinting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Contains a spoiler/reference for the extended edition DVD, aka the scene at Elrond's. For clarification, see end notes_
> 
> So, it's interesting, the differences that bubble up when the character's gender changes. Taking into account the Victorian-ish manners Shire and the slightly medieval-ish vibe of the Dwarrow, all of a sudden, with a female in the mix, more things need to be settled before smoochies. I expect Thorin and Bilbo might need to say some of the same, but....I'll stop burbling and let y'all read.
> 
> Thanks to Kitrazzle, who holds my hand, set me straight, tells me I'm not crazy, and makes text-based squeaky dolphin noises of joy when pleased. Every writer needs a Kit.

Thorin strides into the room, and Bella jabs herself in the face with her pipe, having missed her mouth. 

"Must you persist in this constant noise?" he growls to his nephews, Bifur and Bofur, who are singing and playing instruments happily. It began as something to cheer Kili up, his leg still healing, and then evolved into something boisterous, with table dancing. At least no dinner rolls were being used as missiles this time. 

Thorin folds his arms over his chest and Bella realizes her mouth is hanging open because chest, chest hair...arms...and that lovely trail on his belly...and it dawns upon her that she has begun to find snarling and glaring Thorin Oakenshield devastatingly attractive, which frankly, is all she needs. Clothed Thorin is heartache enough. She swallows hard. 

"Sorry, Uncle, we'll keep it down," Fili promises, listing a little to the side. It had been a rather merry party. 

"You'd do better to take to your beds," he mutters, still glowering. "Mistress Hobbit, I'm surprised you haven't taken advantage of the soft beds and clean sheets upstairs." 

Bella manages not to startle or whimper when Thorin's eyes turn on her, and she catches, just faintly, a glimmer of humor and something else, something quite riveting, in his gaze. 

"I'm surprised you wear your gauntlets and a belt to bed," falls out of her mouth before she can catch it. 

Thorin prowls over to her chair, bracing himself on the arms so that he can lean over her, skimming just above her body in one lithe, lethal movement, surrounding her with soft, dark hair and warm skin, just a hand's breadth away.

His face hovers just above hers, mouth quirked in a faint smile, eyes hooded. "And what, exactly, is your interest in what I wear to bed?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes on Bella's mouth, as if he were contemplating a kiss. She casts caution to the wind and bravely tilts her head in reply, her lips inches below Thorin's, waiting, her heart going a mile a minute. 

When Thorin's gaze lifts, it's hot, intent and pleased. "Mistress Bella," he hums, his voice low and dark as midnight. "The embers in your pipe fade. You should put it out. Warmer fires await you, should you get yourself to bed." 

"Ah, these beds that are as soft and warm as you say?" 

"Soft," and the way Thorin shapes the word sends a hot glow of longing through Bella from breast to belly. "Warm, with the proper care. Whatever your preference, I'm sure you'll find a bed to your liking."

For a moment, she has to look away as she gathers her courage. ”But after so long, sleeping rough in cave or hillside, I am sure such soft beds would do me ill."

”A hobbit, refusing...comfort?” A flicker of not just disappointment, but _sorrow_ shadows Thorin’s eyes and Bella feels as if she’s been dipped in fire, in ice. 

“A hobbit knowing she’ll have to give such comfort up all too soon, come morning,” she whispers. “The ground will be harder still, after.” 

”Ah,” he breathes over her skin,and gooseflesh follows quickly after. Bella tries and fails not to shiver. “Not come morning; we linger here awhile, and you may sleep as long as you like...as often as you like...but…” His gaze devours her hair, her mouth, her eyes. 

“But?” It feels as if something larger than the mountain hovers over them and her breath comes short and quick in her throat. 

“Bella,” his eyes are like the blue of a flame that never flickers. “Does not the comfort of a soft bed, of soft nights spent in deep, warm sleep, does not the joy of it linger?” 

“I-it can,” she stutters, fighting some instinct to slide forward in the chair, stretch out, to angle her body in line with his. 

“Bella,” he rocks up to whisper in her ear and she mewls softly, biting her lips as his hair brushes her cheek. It smells of cloves. She can feel the heat of his skin. “Bella, the right bed, thoughtfully chosen, may be enjoyed for a lifetime.” He slides back into his former position (still so close) and his eyes are just as intense, but there is something open and…

"You are so sure," Bella breathes. 

Thorin licks his lips, his eyes sweeping down the length of her body as he had back on the Carrock, then back up to pin her to the chair with the ardor of his gaze. 

"I grow more sure by the moment," he murmurs, a breath away from her mouth. And with the same sensual grace, he backs away from the chair, holding Bella's eyes all the while. He inclines his head slightly, that faint smile again curling at the corners of his mouth, eyes blazingly blue, and retreats to his room. 

Bella watches his departure (as beautiful as his entrance), dazed. 

"Oh Mahal, there are some things a nephew should not see," Kili mourns, slumping against his brother. "Ever. I don’t care." 

"Bella, lass," Bofur says hoarsely. "If you don't follow him after that, you're a right idiot." 

"What just happened?" she asks, still watching the doorway. She turns dazed eyes to Bofur. “ _Did_ that just happen?” 

”Yes,” Kili mourns and beats his head against the table. Fili puts a hand on the back of his head, stilling him. 

“Are you going to say yes?” he asks. 

“Did he just offer….” Her friends, save Kili, who moans glumly, nod. 

“Came down bare - well, bare enough, probably didn’t want to scare ya - to show his body has no flaws, wearing symbols of his wealth, house and crafts, to show what he could bring to you, put himself before your eyes in front of friends and family and offered himself, as is proper,” Bofur explains, a happy light in his eyes. “Wished all the best for you, didn’t I?" He taps his nose, points at Bella. and makes a broad gesture toward Thorin’s door. “Sooooo…” 

“He, he, he said,” her throat closes until she can barely whisper. “As long as I wished….a lifetime?” This is so far from flower wreaths and courting walks and _tea_ but...she never wanted any of that, did she? Never, ever, until…

“Are you going to say yes?” Fili asks again, his smile even warmer. Bella stares at him for a moment, trying to figure out how he doesn’t just _know_ and suddenly realizes that _Thorin is waiting for her, half-naked_ and has asked her, he asked her…. she jumps out of her chair. 

“What must I do?” 

“Oh, lass, I think it’s way past time you knew _that_ ,” Bofur drawls and Bella flaps her hands at him to hush. 

“Is there something...do I have to…” She presses her hands to her blazing cheeks, her heart jumping. Everyone in the room knows what she’s about to do and _she does not care_. 

Fili walks to her with no trace of his earlier tipsiness, and touches a finger to the long braid she’d done up after her bath. “Go to him with your hair unbound, to show him you come with no reservations, no entanglements.” 

“En _tangle_ ments? Honestly,” she tries to untie the leather thong at the end, and her shaking hands fumble over it until she makes a small closed mouth scream of frustration. Fili gently takes it from her, quickly undoes her hair, and fluffs it over her shoulders. She smiles at him gratefully. 

“How long will you stay with him?” he whispers to her. 

“Forever,” she whispers back, unable to stop her shaky grin. 

“Mahal’s hammer shelter you then, always. Auntie." he replies, grinning too, and kisses her forehead. “Now go, he’s not patient.” 

“Really?” Bella drawls, and he laughs. 

“Go before Uncle comes out in less clothes!” 

Bella fakes for one instant contemplating staying exactly where she is, and Fili and Bofur roar. Kili moans from his end of the table, and Bifur says something approving (she thinks) to her in Khuzdul. She laughs in reply. 

“How do I look?” she says breathlessly, straightening her skirts. 

“Not bad for a beardless lass,” Bofur sniffs, his eyes twinkling. 

Bifur mimes yanking her bodice down firmly and instead of getting embarrassed about it,(her cheeks do burn, but still) she rolls her eyes and does, and he was right, it had ridden up a bit. Fili pulls up his brother’s head and Kili slurs, “Beautiful. Hap’f you. Really. Please le’ me die.” 

She meets Fili’s eyes one more time, takes courage in his blessing and joy. “Thanks, you horrible darlings," she whispers, and runs. 

Standing at Thorin’s door, she pats her hair and settles her bodice again, takes a deep breath, and knocks. 

He’s even more beautiful than she remembers when he opens the door, and she sees the second he takes in her unbound hair, how his whole body relaxes and joy kindles in his eyes. 

“Bella.” 

“I do beg your pardon,” she says, trying to control her shaking voice. “The only bed I should ever want, the sort of bed one enjoys for a lifetime, is in here. I’m sure you understand.” 

He draws her in, shuts the door, and has her backed against it in the next moment, one hand in her hair, gently tipping her head back, again, the rest of him just out of reach.

“Do you? We will be wed." 

She raises her brows in gentle challenge. “You offered a lifetime. My hair is unbound.” 

“It is.” His voice dips low, rumbling and pleased as he gathers up a handful of it, and eyes on hers, inhales, taking in the scent of the lavender soap she used. And then he kisses it, presses his mouth to her hair, and she can’t feel the kiss, but trembles all the same, her eyes falling shut, hands pressed against the door, breath rasping in her throat, yearning. 

Thorin’s other hand, tangled at the nape of her neck, shifts to cup her cheek. 

“Do you fear, Bella?” Her eyes fly open. 

“No! Well.” She swallows hard and puts some starch in her spine. “This is very new, and...I know the way of things,” she helplessly gestures between their bodies. “But I have little skill or experience...past a certain point.” 

He ghosts his thumb under her lower lip. “And what point might that be?” 

She clears her throat, and unable to quite look at him, lowers her eyes, which only leads to his belt and his _very_ thin breeches and the interesting shadows beneath the pale linen, swallows hard again and meets his eyes with determination. “The point after kissing." She lifts her chin. "There were offers..." she shrugs. 

"Of which you were afraid?"

She half shrugs, half shakes her head. “The fortune hunters', yes.” 

"Indifferent to the rest?"

She takes a shivering breath. "Not to yours," she admits in the barest of whispers.

“Brave Bella,” he sighs, brushing her cheekbone with his thumb. “To come to me so boldly.” 

“I was made a bold offer.” 

Thorin inclines his head, acknowledging it, eyes kindling with that same joy she saw when he opened the door. “And I am fortunate. More than fortunate. Come, if you will, to sit in comfort?” He stands aside for her to enter the room, and his hand settles lightly on her back. 

The chair beside the fire is too large, but not large enough for them both, and the bed enormous, but Bella thinks she should be able to clamber up without too much difficulty. She walks to the washstand and takes up a cloth there, preparing to wash her feet - which, since her bath, aren’t too dirty - and Thorin is behind her. She can feel the warmth of him, and the leather of his gauntlet slides down her arm as his hand closes over hers. 

“Your feet?” he murmurs, his hand squeezing hers lightly. 

“Yes.” 

“Allow me.” He turns his hand, palm open, his other hand a light pressure on her shoulder, asking her to turn. She does, and lets him lead her to the bed. 

Thorin lifts her easily, and settles her on the edge, looking into her face with a small, grave smile, and strokes her hair from crown to ends. “I am glad you are here with me,” he says simply. “Any touch, anything at all that does not please you, or alarms you, you must tell me. Please.” 

She gives him a look. “And when have I ever been slow to voice my….” 

“Please” he says, speaking over her softly, and the look on his face, oh the look on his face makes her heart turn over in her chest, light with affection. “Bella. The last thing I wish would be to…” 

“Shhh,” she says, reaching out to him for the first time, and takes his hand. “I promise, Thorin. Do you?” 

He lifts their hands and kisses her knuckles, his eyes gleaming. “I do. Thank you.” He drops her hand to back away, gather the washbowl and a cloth, and as Bella watches, a bit dazed, the King Under the Mountain, soon to be husband, washes and dries her feet. 

“You are so tender with me,” she whispers. He kisses her instep, sets aside the cloth, the bowl, and still kneeling, leans forward to rest his hands on either side of her. 

“I promised you a soft bed,” he murmurs, smiling. 

“And comfortable,” she replies, smiling back, and runs one hand down a leather gauntlet. “May I?” 

Thorin turns his arm for her to get at the laces, and she can tell he is surprised and pleased by her request. She works out the clever quick-knot and takes care not to ruin it for later. 

“Surely these cannot be comfortable to sleep in,” she says lightly. 

“You have the right of that.” He flinches and barks out a short laugh when she runs her fingers teasingly up the inside of his bare forearm. Bella is _delighted_. 

“I’m so terribly sorry,” she lies, reaching for his other arm. He gives it to her, mock-warily (perhaps not so mock). “Are you going to tell me to behave?” 

“It has never worked; I don’t know why I’d try now,” he growls, an upward curl at the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, I have discovered something,” she says, whispering, and touches the tiny curve. “This is you teasing. It’s almost buried by your beard.” 

“This is me only beginning to tease, beloved,” he replies, eyes gone flame-hot again, as he turns to kiss her fingers. Bella gasps, touch, words and tone setting off that slow, warm ache he’d kindled earlier.

“Beloved,” she whispers, her fingers trembling against his mouth as he kisses them, and then her palm, her wrist, and then back to the palm to linger. 

_”Ghivashel,”_ he whispers back. “Treasure of all treasures. This is how we say beloved.” 

_”Ghivashel,”_ she echoes, and shifts forward to run her free hand down his dark mane of hair. 

“You need not call me that, Bella, not unless, until...” 

She puts her hand on his lips. “Beloved. Beloved. _Ghivashel._ You must know you are this to me. I would not come to you, otherwise. It is it not in me to play with hearts.” 

He wraps both arms around her knees and lays his head on her lap. “I had hoped, Bella.” 

“Thorin,” she strokes his hair in long, smooth strokes, dares to stroke his warm, strong shoulders. His arms tighten around her legs as she touches his skin, and he after a moment, he sighs, turns his head slightly, presses a kiss to her knee through her skirts and shifts to glance up at her. 

“I would see to your comfort, _ghivashel._ ”

“I’m quite comfortable,” she assures him, continuing to stroke his hair, his beard, which is softer than she anticipated. She waits him out, and watches his beautiful, tender, stubborn face. “Oh, are _you_ , my dear?” she blinks innocently. 

In one smooth motion, he’s up and over her, like he was downstairs, face inches from hers. “Ah, this cat has claws, I see,” and he is grinning, joyful, and it takes a moment for Bella to catch her breath from the beauty of his smile so close. 

“And who knows? May bite as well,” she says, still nearly breathless, that glowing ache growing as he holds himself above her. “If you will tease, expect teasing in return.” 

“Mmmmm,” he replies appreciatively, drops his eyes to her lips and begins a slow arch toward them. Bella holds herself still, tight with anticipation, and he feints left to place a slow kiss to her cheek. She throws back her head and laughs, and he catches her up with a hand at the small of her back to press small kisses up her throat from collarbone to ear, lingering to draw the lobe into his mouth and suck gently. A sharp jolt of pleasure runs through her and she cries out softly, arching into him. 

“Sensitive?” he murmurs. 

“It would seem so.” She reaches out blindly, and he wraps her arm around his neck.

“Mmmmm,” he says again, his lips pressed to her temple. “Something to explore.” 

“Mmmmm” she agrees. “Isn’t your back hurting, bent over like that?” She can feel the puff of his breath as he chuckles into her hair. 

“I’m being careful and seeing to your comfort.” 

“Oh, is that what this is?” 

“I might have become a bit sidetracked,” he admits, kissing her temple and straightening up. 

“Not that I am complaining,” Bella smiles up at him, and kicking her heels against the bed frame. 

_”Ghivashel,”_ he smiles, strokes her cheek with a fond knuckle, and sits beside her. Bella frowns, finally noticing something, and turns to run her fingers through the hair just beside his ears. One side is unbound, the other has his usual braid. She looks at him, the braid in her hand. 

“The mountain looms over us, Bella, encumbrance enough. And then there is...there is the madness. You know. You heard. I could only unbind one, in good faith.” He puts his hand over hers. “I will understand if you…” 

“Why would you offer a _lifetime_ ,” she asks, her voice shaking, hand wrapped in the braid. “Only to snatch yourself away?” 

“Bella, I-” 

She tugs, furious. _”Why do you offer?_ Why ask for my heart one moment and threaten to dash it to the rocks the next?”

“Because,” he growls. “Beyond what I wish to return to my people, everything I have ever longed for for myself, everything I wished to return to, everything that I _fear_ , dragon and dragon sickness, is in that mountain! Save one.” He reaches out to touch her face, once, and gentles his voice. “Save one.” He swallows hard. “One who might be mine. I am greedy to ask for you, to offer myself, the shadows and burdens of the mountain on me.” 

“Thorin, my _ghivashel._ You are not your father, or your grandfather,” she says, her voice shaking still now with relief, and works to undo his braid. “Every single person in my family on my father’s side has brown hair. Brown as bark. Everyone but the grandmother of the Old Took, my grandfather, is just as brown, including my mother. Every last one. And here I am with this,” she sifts a hand through her tawny hair. 

“Everyone in my father’s family can sing, but he couldn’t even if you gave him a bucket to carry the tune. But he could build you anything you like, dogcart to dollhouse, barely needing to scratch out the sums to get the measurements right. Family is important, but who they are, what they’re like, what they do, doesn’t mean you’ll be exactly the same.” She combs the wavy strands into the rest of his hair with her fingers and hands him the bead. 

“Why did you do this, Bella?” he asks softly, turning the it in his hand. 

“Is it a burden if I already knew? I’m here to sneak up on a dragon for you, you lump. I promised I would help get back your home. And the rest? I knew, I _know_ all of this, Thorin, and did not hesitate.” 

“You didn’t,” he agrees, voice thick with wonder, looking at the bead. A moment, and he blinks, looks at her and asks, “Lump?” 

“Lump,” she says, pushing his shoulder. It doesn’t budge him. “Great lump,” she uses both hands and he sways. Slightly. “Great _stubborn_ lump.” 

“Are we being playful?” he inquires mildly. 

“We were,” Bella grits out. “But now it’s a point of pride.” She tries again, and really puts her back into it. He rocks like a children’s toy, then bobs upright, grinning. She growls and tries again, and this time, he almost lands with his back on the bed, but, with a completely flagrant display stomach muscles, pops back up. Bella valiantly does not let it distract her. Much. 

“Oooh, that’s cheating,” she growls. He raises his eyebrows innocently. She looks him in the eye, pushes again, and as he sways, runs her fingers lightly up his sides before he has a chance to recover, he loses momentum curling up to protect his ribs, and he's down. 

“Ha!” she says victoriously, kneeling on the bed. 

“Ha!” he replies, rearing up and dragging her down with him. She falls to her side with a giggling "oof” and he mirrors her, hand brushing up and down her arm lightly. 

“You’ve distracted me again,” he says, absolutely not sorry, voice and eyes laughing. 

“Have I?” 

“Mmmm,” he leans forward to brush her nose with his. Bella flushes, feeling fond and warm and cared for.

“This mysterious seeing to my comfort?” 

“Mmmm,” he agrees, settling back in place, his hand rising to her cheek. Bella turns into it, yearning into his touch. 

“This _is_ a comfortable bed,” she ventures softly. 

“Mmmm.” 

“Have you lost your words?” 

He gazes at her, face more open and content than she’d ever seen, and kisses her palm, strokes up her arm to her hair, sifts it through his fingers as he leans forward to kiss her forehead, and brush his nose with hers. 

“You, this close and willing to be mine? Yes.” His heart is in his eyes, and it catches her breath. 

“Will you kiss me now?” she whispers, transfixed. 

“If it please you.” 

"It pleases me." 

Bella reaches for him, and he comes swiftly, arching over her, then rolling slightly so that she's held in both strong arms, not quite lying on her back, one gentle hand cradling her head. She realizes, with a rising swell of affection, he didn't want her to feel pinned. 

“ _Quite_ the comfortable bed,” Bella murmurs, shyly snuggling closer, her arms sliding around his neck. 

“Yes. Soft,” Thorin says, nuzzling and brushing at her lips with his until she gasps, trembling. “Beautiful,” he whispers, in that deep midnight voice. “Warm. Beloved.” 

He lowers his mouth to hers. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, to bed with them. 
> 
> Disclaimer: contains smut. It is a wedding night, after all. 
> 
> Other disclaimer: hobbits are very sturdy. 
> 
> Other other disclaimer: This particular Bella is quite a bit more Took than Baggins.
> 
> Last disclaimer: Of course, there will be parallels with the other "And So, To Bed." But also a great deal of difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to tygermama for holding my hand and letting me know, when the words stop being words and sort of glom together, that things still make sense.

It has been some years since Bella had kissed anyone, and she knows, immediately, that Thorin’s kisses are like no other. 

It is not just skill - though he has plenty of that to be sure - but his kisses seem to be a conversation, a continuation of the dear things he has said to her. She feels his admiration, his joy in her, and so clearly, love he has carried close and secret in his heart. She is gasping, near drunk from it, in short order, and tries to nestle closer in his arms, a vague thought of being closer to his heart wandering through her thoughts. 

Her bulky skirt and close-fitted bodice, however, prevent her from curling as close as she’d like, prevent her from feeling his warm skin next to hers. She contents herself, for a time, to pet his hair and smooth her hands down his lovely arms, so strong and firm, and wander a bit to feel the soft, springy hair gracing his ridiculously attractive chest. 

He is so different that any lad she's kissed, from the coiled strength of his arms to the rough silk of his beard. He is so very deeply, clearly _male_ in a way Bella has never experienced, and it would be, she thinks, overwhelming, his broad frame, his strength, how large his hands are, but... 

He smells so good, his hair and skin and lips seem to be enchanted, because she cannot get enough, cannot stop touching him, kissing him, and he touches her so gently, so tender with her, so tender. His care touches her so deeply she feels as if she might cry. 

And he cannot be close enough. Thorin’s fingers catch on her sleeve as he slides his hand up her arm, and Bella makes a small sound of disappointment. 

“Hmm?” he asks, pulling back slightly, stroking her cheek, and down her neck, her collarbone . 

“Was this ‘seeing to my comfort’ perhaps...did it include getting me out of my clothes?” 

The lines beside his eyes crinkle in a smile, and he traces a careful finger just under the line of her bodice, stroking the skin between her breasts, watching her eyes with equal care. “To your level of comfortable undress, my Bella, before we rest.” 

Bella shifts restlessly. “Well, I certainly am _over_ dressed at the moment, beloved.” 

“Beloved,” he murmurs, coming close for a kiss. “To hear such names fall so easily from your lips. To hear you name me thus, hear you speak the words with such warmth.” 

_”Ghivashel”_ , she whispers. “Darling, dearest, love.” Bella laughs softly. “It's as if I have had endearments for you all along. Names I never dared even think, lest it show too much on my face."

“I watched for any sign, any warm look,” he murmurs. “Watched for warmer glances, for your body to angle toward mine as we spoke, waited to see if your quickening breath betrayed a faster beating heart, waited for the blush of your cheek, a lingering hand, and for any fondness in your voice, any sign.” 

Her breath is certainly coming quick in her throat now. “And did you get them?” 

“A double handful of small moments, gathered proof,” his eyes gleam, smiling at her. “Those warmer glances kept me company on many a long night, as did the memory of you in my arms.” 

“That hug on the Carrock...I was so surprised….” She poked his chest gently. “And after. You were, yourself, hard to read, my love. Warm and kind when you had a moment to spare, small moments, as you said, of growing friendship. I did not dare think your regard extended further. And when you turned to me to scout on the way to Beorn’s, I truly felt part of the Company at last. Respected. Valued. However, the look you sent my way when I found you in the caves of Mirkwood made my heart race. The way you clasped my hand and kissed it...it was...I was...” 

He moves quickly to kiss her, once, twice, his hands moving over her gently. “I thought you dead. Thought you taken by the spiders. And I grieved that I had not asked for you sooner, those nights in that cell. Had not asked the moment my heart opened to yours.” 

Bella recalls with a pang their exhausted reunion. “I never said, I didn’t want to say at the time, but I had been losing hope of finding you. I have never been so relieved to see someone…” her voice trembles with remembered fear, and his lips are at her forehead a breath later, comforting. 

“Not as relieved as I was,” he murmurs softly, clearly proud, and kisses her. “And never so sure of loving you as that moment. I knew then I must watch carefully, see if our hearts were in accord." 

"I do appreciate you waiting until I could breathe through my nose again." 

"It seemed the wiser course."

“Dwarrow, I hear, are not hasty in their decisions,” Bella says, her own heart soaring, speaking as soberly as she can. “So, I understand your caution in speaking your heart. However, I have said I wish to undress. One would think my husband-to-be would help with such a matter. Or have you decided otherwise?” 

Thorin brushes her lips with his, and says silkily, “I am ever at your service, intended wife. Might I help?” 

“Please,” Bella gasps, arching into the hand that smooths down her side the moment she finishes the word. “Please, Thorin.” 

He watches her eyes, not her body, as he undresses her, his fingers nimble. Just as much as his gaze, his hands speak of his desire, reverent, gentle, as they touch her, as they draw each piece of clothing away. 

His breath is roughened as her skirt falls away and she is clad only in shift and smallclothes, and his hand shakes as he traces across the neckline, and down, the barest glide over her breasts before smoothing over her waist and hip, to pull her to him, breast to belly, his hand sliding to cup her bottom, to press them even more tightly together. 

Bella can feel him, ready for her, against her belly, and she arches, rubbing herself against him, as shameless as can be and joyful with it. Thorin groans, burying his face in her shoulder and pressing his hips against hers. She lets the pleasure of it catch her, draw her under as she moves against him, his hands again sketching the shape of her, molding her to him, and her head falls back on a moan, and Thorin’s mouth is there an instant after, pressed against a spot that makes her feel shivery and warm, molten, and makes her already yearning heart tremble and sigh. 

“Dearest,” she whispers. “Thorin.” He kisses her, heady and aching, mouth soft and hard in turns, tender and demanding. The kiss turns devouring for a moment, until Bella can tear her mouth away to say. “Wait.” 

Thorin blinks at her and retreats instantly, leaving her free to move, his face careful and slightly shuttered. 

“Shhh,” she whispers, sitting up to remove her shift. “This is all.” Boldly, she shimmies out of her smallclothes as well, and _now_ he looks at her body, slow and deliberate, and Bella flushes all over from his flame-hot gaze. 

Emboldened, she strokes down his chest, pets that intriguing line of hair on his lower belly until it is covered by the waist of his linen pants. She reaches out and puts a hand on the tie and looks a question at him. Thorin gives her a tiny nod, his breathing ragged again, and falls back in the bed, blowing a sigh through his nose. Bella smiles to see that he’s grabbed the sheets in both hands. 

The tie is easy enough, but she is very careful as she eases the cloth over his sex….his _cock_ , she decides privately, discarding a handful of childish-seeming words for this very male, very grown part of him. Thorin lifts his hips to help her draw the pants away, and then she has him, bare before her, fair skin, dark hair, and so...so... 

“Oh,” she whispers, ghosting light fingers over his cock. “You’re so _beautiful_....” She pets him with the tips of her fingers, gasping at how soft the skin is, velvety and smooth. Fascinated, she tentatively touches his bollocks, shaking her head that there must be a sweeter, gentler name for them, finding the tender skin softer still and, feeling rather protective, she cups them gently in her hand. She finds the softest spot of all, hairless, at the very underside where it attaches to his body, and strokes that, feather light. Thorin makes a choked, almost wounded whimper, caught between his teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, very small, almost yanking her hand away, realizing she’s being quite rude, petting his very _personal_ person without leave. “I should have...I...may I?” 

“Bella.” The look he gives her, desire, pleading, and his incredulous scoff that clearly communicates _please_ , gives her confidence, and she fits her hand around his girth, wider than expected, and doesn’t _that_ cause a throb of interest deep inside her, and, it has to be admitted, a little concern, but gratefully, Tookish interest is very much in ascendance. 

“What should I do?” she whispers. 

“Like this,” he replies softly, his voice slightly strained, and props himself on his elbow to help her. He fits his hand around hers, urges her fingers into a tighter clasp, and guides her hand in a slow, smooth caress. His skin is looser than she expected, and the puffy, red head is hidden and revealed in turns. 

“All right?” She asks shyly. 

“Yes,” he says, panting slightly, his smile crooked. “Wonderful.” 

“What else?” She moves her hand slowly, fascinated, and brushes her thumb up the prominent, almost angry-looking vein on her next pass. Such an interesting, fascinating mix of proud virility and literally tender vulnerability, his sex. 

Thorin falls back on the bed. “There is a spot," he says, breathless. "Just under the head, where the skin attaches to the…rub...” 

Bella circles the pad of her thumb around and Thorin arches, groaning, hands tight fisted in the linen. “Oh. Bella,” he whispers. “Bella.” 

She trembles as she moves her hand, and marvels that giving him pleasure like this gives her great pleasure as well, this petal-soft skin, the soft-hard feel of him, somehow right, in her hand, and the beautiful arch of his body as he groans her name again and moves into her touch. 

Stroking him a bit more firmly, alternating that with stroking that little patch of skin, she watches Thorin as his rough breath turns to pants as he shudders all over, head thrown back and moaning. She can’t help but make an answering sound and shiver of desire. He is so beautiful like this, and to make him feel so…to cause such beautiful _sounds_...to see him nearly lost in pleasure...it is humbling and beautiful and so very exciting. She shivers again.

“Bella,” he whispers, and reaches for her hand. “Bella, no more, or I will be spent before we begin.” 

She holds her hands out wide, obeying, and strokes his thighs and knees instead, grinning, triumphant, pert. “I thought we _had_ begun.” 

“Oh,” he rumbles, reaching for her, and settling her on the bed next to him. “There is much, much more, _ghivashel_. So much more I would show you, little burglar, before you touch me and rob me of the ability to think.” He leans in for a breath-stealing kiss. “Not that I am complaining.” 

She winds her arms around his neck, pleased and flushing, she knows, all the way down her chest. “I’d like to touch you like that again,” she says shyly. 

“And I will treasure such an occasion. But I wish to devote much time to showing you as much pleasure as I can devise, just now.” He bends to whisper in her ear. “I have dreamed of loving you, Bella. Might I be selfish this night and show you?” 

“You wish to give me pleasure and that is selfish?” 

“For me. I have always been for my people, but with you, I want something, someone for myself.” As he speaks, his face looks so young, and Bella’s heart pinches at the thought of what a lonely life that must have been. 

“Here with you, I may be Thorin, not a king, and love and be loved, unrestrained. So this first night, I wish to be selfish - not that your hands on me are not fire and delight itself - I wish to show _you_ the delights of love, my treasure. And we will have many nights of joy, but this first time; let me tend to you, Bella. I would show you the best of my heart. Please.” 

Bella sucks in a breath at his humble tone, and her eyes sting with tears. “You will fill my heart to overflowing, Thorin Oakenshield. Show me.” But after such bold words, and her own bold deeds, and the knowledge she will be spread out before him, bare, to touch and tend and please, she is overcome with shyness and buries her head in his chest. 

“Bella?” 

“Suddenly shy,” she whispers. "And feeling terribly inexperienced.” He strokes the hair at her temples, urging her to look up. 

“Have you forgotten already how your touch affected me? How I had to ask for mercy because I could barely master my desire?” 

“No,” she replies, her eyes downcast. “I...I am also suddenly a little nervous. I know it may hurt.” 

He shifts them so she is cradled in his arms, half on their sides, his hand cupping the back of her head. He looks into her eyes, fiercely gentle. “I will do everything in my power, beloved, not to cause you any hurt. And you know you may stop me at any time. I will come to you only when you ask.” 

“I know. I….I might have had a few daydreams myself. Of how it might be to touch you.” 

“I thought you said you had not met anyone who peaked your interest….”

“Until you, you great lump.” She gives him a tiny shove. Thorin grins and darts in to kiss her nose. 

“And how it might be for you to touch me,” she adds bravely, and blushes fit to catch fire. “It’s wonderful,” she says simply, pressing her hand against her flushed cheek. “I don’t want to stop.” 

He puts his hand over hers, and leans in to kiss her. “I am glad.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever blushed so hard in my life,” she mutters. 

“You blush so beautifully, like a peach,” he says. His eyes follow the trail from cheeks to breast, and he murmurs. “This is a path that I have wished to follow. He sketches a gentle finger down her cheek to in between her breasts. “But in a moment,” he says, eyes gleaming. “I have other matters to attend to.” 

Bella struggles to find her voice. “Such as?” 

“I must take a moment,” he replies, running a gentle hand from the crown of her head, down her cheek, ghosting over her breast and waist to settle warmly at her hip, and then, after a moment, to reverse the path and begin again. “A moment to kiss my beloved, my treasure, and learn the feel of her skin against mine. Listen to whether that makes a difference in the sweetness of her kisses. “ He leans down for a gentle nuzzle against her mouth. “I find this is a very important thing to know.” 

“I am ever at your service,” Bella breathes. “Knowledge is never wasted, and I find myself.” She gasps as his hand lingers at her breast. She swallows hard. “I find myself in need of the same information.” 

“Well, then. By your leave?” 

“You are most welcome,” Bella whispers, an excited hitch to her breath. “To study as long as you like.” 

“Careful, Bella,” he replies, all dark promise. “I may take you at your word.” 

She gasps when his mouth covers hers, when he shifts her in his arms to draw her close again, just as before, breast to belly, and there is a difference, him, warm and naked in her embrace, his love so clear and sharp in every touch, every kiss, every whisper of her name. There is, perhaps, even more joy than before. 

But he is also holding back, respectful, his whole body - not just that beautiful, very male part of him, but all - poised for more intimate touch, poised to claim, but waiting, clearly, for her call, and she feels so humbled and powerful by it. He is so strong, but holds her like the most precious delicate thing, and she certainly is _not_ delicate, but the kindness of it, this gentleness, catches her under her heart, and tears are flavoring their kisses before she realizes it. 

“Bella, what…” 

“No, no, love, I am happy.” She kisses him, bright with joy, once and again. “There is a difference,” she whispers. “I can feel...I hear love in your voice when you speak to me, but I feel it, when you kiss me like this. I can feel your heart."

He brushes a lock of hair away from her face, dries her tears and snugs her closer, his smile sweet and shy. “We are taught,” he confesses. “The rights and duties of marriage from when we are small. And wife lore, handed down, as females are so rare, shared knowledge so that one might be a pleasing spouse.” 

“And you studied well, my love,” she murmurs, only a tiny bit teasing. 

His eyes flash with humor for a moment. “I did my best. And it was important, after we lost the mountain, to pass on to each child. It has been honed over ages, and I’d always found it, even when I had no hope for myself, a comfort, to show our children the best of ourselves.” he murmurs, stroking her cheek.” He pauses. 

“‘When you come to offer yourself to your beloved,” he recites. “Hold in your heart that which you love best about them, so that each kiss, each touch is filled with joy and appreciation, so that they may hear your heart. When you come to love, offer your heart as you offer your body, and you will know joy.’” 

“Thorin.” Tears falling from her eyes, she rushes to catch his mouth with hers. “That is so beautiful. I hear your heart, I do. I knew from the moment you kissed me I had never been kissed with such love.” 

He smiles, running a gentle hand over her hair, her cheek, and presses their foreheads together, whispering. “I am glad, Bella. I am so glad.” He brushes her tears away, kisses her eyelids and cheeks, and takes her mouth softly, so achingly softly that she whimpers against his mouth, pressing herself into his embrace. He makes a deep noise of approval and flexes his hips slowly against hers, setting her skin alight with desire. 

Shaking, she lifts her hand to his cheek and holds her own-best loved things about him in her heart, and again, there _is_ a difference, a deeper joy in loving him thus, and they feast for a time on one another’s mouths, rocking together slowly, hands in turns greedy and gentle on one another’s skin. After a few long, blissful moments, Thorin groans, heart-deep, and seems to melt against her, causing her to cry out against his mouth in turn, her own body yearning into his. 

“I hear you, Bella,” he breathes in wonder, and kisses her deeply, clutching at her as if to assure himself she is there, real, in his arms, and his restraint snaps for a moment, and she is caught, pulled under by his passion, trembling in his arms as he plunders her mouth, and she is moaning, hands thrust into his long, dark mane, her legs twined with his, pouring everything, her wonder, surprise, her joy in him, in finding love when she, when _they_ had both put hope aside. 

He slides his thigh between hers, and tearing his mouth away to catch her eye, guides her leg over his hip, and at her nod, slides his hand to cup her bottom and rolls his hips and _oh_....the noise she makes is wanton, and she does not care, because Thorin’s answering growl is just as full of desire as hers, and she gasps his name as she reaches for him, to bring his mouth to hers. 

“There is a difference,” he whispers against her mouth, his voice thick with feeling. “I feel your heart, my treasure. I feel it calling for mine.” 

Bella braces her hand on his shoulder, fighting to keep the ability to speak. “Wait, you didn’t know if it would work?” 

“I’ve never offered myself thus. I’ve never…” 

Laughing, she kisses him, tugging at his hair. “I know joy in the offering, my darling. Anything else you’ve never tried?” 

Thorin grins and rolls them so that he is hovering over her, his body just brushing hers, hair a curtain around their faces. “So much,” he growls, teasing her with his barely-there presence and nipping kisses and flickers of touch. He moves over her in the rhythm of their rocking before,during these teasing kisses, and she moves with him, though all he is caressing her with is the heat of his body and the silk of his hair. 

Bella misses the solid feel of him in her arms, the slide of his skin against hers and arches, thrusting her hands into his hair to tug him down to her mouth, to entice him with the full measure of her kisses. She lifts a leg and caresses his calf, his thigh with the inside of hers, and he moans softly, a shudder running through him. 

“You distract me with the silk of your skin,” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Oh, dear,” she says. “I may take that as a challenge.” 

He laughs, low and deep. “Then I shall have to distract _you_.” He lowers himself into the cradle of her hips, rocking against her, once, twice, his cock brushing over her most sensitive places. She shivers and cries out, wrapping him tight in her arms. He makes a low noise, gathers her tightly to him and rolls his hips twice more, an aching moan falling from his lips. 

“Oh, that’s, that’s….” she breathes. “Is that what it’s going to feel like….” She rocks up into him and his breath comes out in a short, hard pant. 

“That and more, I hope,” he says breathlessly, seeking her mouth, easing away and onto his side. Bella whines at the loss of him, and he puts a grounding hand on her belly. 

“There is more,” he says, gathering her into his arms to kiss her deeply. Bella wraps her thigh over his hip and presses close, and he smooths his hand down her side, her hip, and he murmurs, “No, like this,” and slips his cock between her legs, snug against her, and rolls his hips. It feels…a sort of tingle gathers, low, in her belly, a warm throb of need, and she gasps, rocking with him. 

Thorin hums with approval and whispers. “There is more, my love. I hate to leave your arms, but I would have you wetter, liquid and trembling before I take you.” 

Bella laughs even as she trembles. “Speak to me like that and you shall have that soon enough.” 

“I would...I wish...I have dreamed of mapping your body with my hands, my mouth, Bella. To hear your love-cries as I touch you, as I offer myself…” 

She clings to him, her hips moving of their own accord, swept up by his words and the delicious slide of him between her legs. Hanging onto his shoulders, she cries out, white lights sparkling behind her eyes, trembling, panting against his mouth. 

The slide of him against her is easier, slicker now, and she trembles anew as he puts his hand, low on her back, the better to keep her close, and grinds his hips into hers, rubbing over her most sensitive place. She bucks against him, straining even as she rises over another peak of pleasure, because she cannot get him close enough. 

_”Ghivashel_ ” he says, voice rough and low. “You are beautiful in your pleasure, so beautiful.” 

“Thorin, please. Please.” 

“Soon,” he kisses her, soothing, then works his way down her neck as she quivers, on the edge of another peak, arching beneath his mouth. He slips away from her, earning another whimper of loss, but he shifts them until she is on her back, Thorin at her side, and he slides his hand up her ribs and curls his hand around her breast. Bella sighs, arching into his touch, and then his mouth slides down…

“Oh,” she whispers, breathless as he suckles at her. “Oh, my…” 

“Mmmm,” Thorin hums and suckles a bit harder and her hips move, restless against the bed, wanting. Thorin skims his hand down her belly and cups her between her legs, the heel of his hand rubbing against that sensitive spot, giving her something to push against and she cries out, shaking again as he draws out her pleasure. 

It only seems to whet her longing for him, and she arches against his hand, under his mouth, her hands in his hair, holding him against her breast. Thorin slides a finger through her folds and it is so sweet, so….and he circles round and round that little spot, his mouth soft and wet on her breast and neither quite enough, until she is nigh begging. 

“You are a horrible tease,” she pants. 

“I assure you, I am not,” he replies, and sets his finger right on that spot and strokes up gently, the tiniest movement, and her whole body contracts, light racing through her veins. And then he does it again. And again, and again. 

“Thorin,” she pants, beating at his shoulders. "Thorin, I..." She can feel another peak, just out of reach, if he’d just do _something_ , she’s not quite sure what, but he holds her there, just on the edge with his finger, such a tiny thing, for her whole body to yearn against that one touch. 

Bella rolls her hips, and Thorin leans up, whispers in her ear. “Be still, my treasure, and just feel this one small place, just feel your pearl.” She stills and he rewards her by stroking downward and that is _entirely_ different, earthy somehow, and she growls, a feral need taking hold, pressing her hips against the bed, fighting not to move because that stroke, that pleasure, so powerful and raw, demands that she arch and thrust and take. She growls, this time with frustration, longing, and Thorin strokes upwards once more, stroking her into light and floating and need… 

“Love cries like music, Bella,” he murmurs against her lips, and sweeps inside for a devouring kiss. “Even lovelier than your laughter.” 

“Thorin, Thorin, please.” 

“Yes,” he agrees, and slips a finger inside her, his thumb on her pearl and she keens with relief, it is so good, he feels so good, and he strokes her, inside and out and she shatters, her cry sharp and ringing in her own ears. 

He adds another finger, and that is even sweeter, and he kisses her mouth, her throat, her ears until she feels boneless with pleasure, and shifts her over his arm so he may suckle at her again as he strokes inside her, and Bella is lost, beyond speech as pleasure drags her under, moving against his hand as if they had always fit together thus, arching and twisting under his touch. 

Thorin adds a third and something unfurls inside her, slow and molten, something between hunger and relief, and she pushes back against his hand with increasing need, clutching at the sheets, her voice rough in her throat. She finds herself saying, “Please, please,” and she doesn’t know exactly what she’s asking for. Thorin’s mouth is on her breast again, and he suckles sharp, his teeth grazing her and she rises in a burst of light and fire, screaming her pleasure and arching nearly off the bed. 

“Bella,” Thorin says, his voice broken with longing, kissing inbetween her breasts, her collarbone, her mouth. “My passionate one." He feasts on her mouth while he stokes her gently with the flat of his hand. She can feel she is wet to the thighs, and his hand on her is both grounding and not enough, and she goes tight under his hands, needing more, needing him, and understands, finally...

"Come to me," she whispers against his mouth. His breath catches and he slowly presses his cock against her hip. "Beloved, Thorin, come to me. I would be yours." 

"And I would be yours," he says in a deep, shaking voice, forehead pressed against her temple. "Bella. Bella, I did not know how much it would move me to see you so…I did not know you would wander ever farther into my heart.” 

She tips her head up to kiss him. “Well, you did ask,” she says shakily. 

A soft, warm smile. “That I did.” 

“And you are most welcome in mine, my love.” 

He gazes into her eyes, joy too deep for a smile in his. “That, I know. That I can feel. Feel your heart reaching for mine, generous, welcoming.” He leans in for that teasing, delicious nuzzle that he does and she leans up, steals a kiss for a smile. “I feel your body calling to mine, my Bella. My beautiful, passionate Bella.” 

He lingers at her mouth until she is gasping, straining again against the hand cupping her. And then he begins his slow descent, kissing down her body, nuzzling under her breasts, licking a broad stripe across a nipple before suckling, his other hand cupping the opposite breast and pressing in just right, easing the ache his kisses, his touch have caused. 

Thorin kisses her little pooch of a tummy, the roundness that stubbornly stayed despite near-starving in Mirkwood. It tickles a bit, this whiskery kiss, and she squirms. He blows a playful raspberry against her belly, shockingly loud, and she is laughing when he settles between her knees and presses his mouth to her, a deep kiss against these second lips, this very core of her, and she arches, crying out in pleasure and surprise. His hand comes up to rest against her belly, grounding, comforting, and she clutches it, weaving their fingers together, else she is sure she will float right off the bed. 

He laps at her, lavish as he is with every other aspect of his lovemaking, laps and nuzzles and kisses, his other hand cupped beneath her, tilting her hips to his mouth. She breathes out his name on a long, slow moan, trying to stay still, but unable to stop her hips from rocking. 

She makes as small a movement as she can (she would not dislodge him for the world) and he growls his appreciation, the vibrations silver shivering shocks of pleasure, and he growls and redoubles his efforts, his mouth devouring her here as he does her mouth, urging her to move, and sweet Yavanna, he has not been wrong about lovemaking yet, so she does, and oh, oh….

“I did not know…” she pants. “Romance novels leave _a lot_ out.”

He laughs, causing more shudders, and she cannot reply for the life of her, so she hums, approving, and arches against his mouth, asking for more. 

He obliges, suckling at that little pearl of flesh at the center of her, his tongue firm against the root of it, and she lifts near off the bed, keening, but for his hands holding her hips, and he gives no quarter until her voice rings against the rafters. 

“Oh love, oh love,” she sighs as he gentles her down from her peak. “Will you not come to me now, you _horrible_ tease?” 

He kisses the inside of her thigh, grinning, his beard glistening with her juices in the firelight. “Once more, once more and then I will,” he grins. 

“Well, if you _insist_ ,” she huffs, voice shaking, one hand combing through his hair. “Darling, horrible tease.” 

He nuzzles against her, lipping at her pearl. “Only for your benefit.” 

“Mmmm,” she agrees lazily, smiling at him. “Fair enough. But be warned, I will discover ways to tease you until you truly beg for mercy. I am quite good at puzzles, you know.” His face goes slack and his eyes go flame-hot, nearly feral, and he _growls_ , deep in his chest. 

“I look forward to that,” he rumbles, each word bitten off. Sliding his hand up her thigh, he spreads her open and presses his open mouth against her, lush, lavish kisses that curl her toes. He squeezes her hand and releases her to slide his hand low on her belly, his thumb stroking just over her pearl. 

Thorin strokes and kisses and nuzzles at her (his beard is _wonderful_ ) until she is rocking helplessly into his touch, until she is rising anew, and then he slips two fingers inside her and does _something_ and it’s…. she peaks, sudden and sharp, and he shifts to suckle at her pearl, sending her even higher, her voice gone high and thin and sighing. 

He does not gentle her through the aftershocks, but rises to his knees, leans over her and adds a third finger, his thumb firmly on her pearl. Braced on one hand, he moves the other inside her strongly. 

“Any pain?” 

Bella shakes her head against the pillow, eyes wide. She meets his thrusts with equal force.

He wipes his face on his arm, huffing, tense. “I need to hear you say it,” he grits out. 

Bella reaches up to touch his dear face, cup his cheek. “No pain, my love.” 

He blows out a breath of relief and leans down to kiss her. “I have felt no great barrier, but _tell me_.” 

“Mmmhmmm,” she murmurs, pleasure pulling her down and down, and pushes back against his hand. Thorin laughs and kisses her, once, twice. 

“Bella.” 

“I promise, Thorin.” She reaches up for another kiss, to pull him down to her, but he just gives her his mouth. 

“I will bar the door and keep you here forever to watch how beautiful you are in your pleasure.”

“I will let you, if only to get ahead on my plan of making you beg.” 

“Call for me again,” he whispers in that voice of velvet and midnight. She trembles. “Call for me, Bella, and I will come.” 

“Please, Thorin. Come to me, husband.” 

“Oh,” he breathes, his eyes closing. “To hear you name me thus.” He leans down to take her mouth in a devastating kiss as he withdraws his fingers. They are replaced by the blunt, broad head of his cock, and he strokes through her folds with it, causing her to arch and whimper against his lips. 

“Deep breath, and exhale slowly,” he murmurs, and she can feel him just _there_ as she obeys. “Another breath and blow out slowly, _now_.” And Bella does and then he is inside her and _oh_ , oh...her hands clutch at his shoulders, his hair, gasping, stretched, heart and body so full…her voice hitches in a sob from the joy of it, and yes, a tiny bit of discomfort, but more that gorgeous feeling of relief and home and belonging...

“Bella?” his voice curls up in concern. 

“No, no my love, it’s fine, it’s lovely.” She sighs and tilts her hips, drawing him in deeper, wiggling her hips, adjusting. She watches his face, tender and concerned, and realizes his body is as still as a stone, holding himself back, waiting for her. She cups his face in both hands. 

“Be welcome, my love,” she whispers, and rolls her hips. "Oh, my love. Beloved." He sighs, melting into her, his hips catching her rhythm. He guides her legs around his waist, and she locks her ankles at the small of his back. Lowering himself to his elbows, he seeks her mouth, Bella wraps her arms around him, and gives herself over to being loved, and loving him as best she can. 

They rock slowly, so slowly together, and it is slick and sweet and so lovely, and pleasure simmers under her skin. She has time to stroke his shoulders, his back, thrust her hands into his hair and tug at it as she kisses him, and oh, from the stutter of his breath and the added power to his thrusts, he _likes_ that. 

Bella tries a nipping kiss of the sort he’d given her earlier, drawing his lower lip between her teeth slowly, and he pants a sharp breath through his nose, moans softly against her mouth, slides nearly all the way out of her, and when she whines, complaining, thrusts against her strongly enough to move them up the bed. 

Her answering cry is sharp, guttural, and she finds her hands are gripping his shoulders nails first. “Oh, love.” She pushes back against him, and he grinds against her, circling his hips and white sparks flash behind her eyes and she cries out once more, trembling through a tiny peak, and there it is, again, under her skin, hunger and relief mingled, to have him with her so, but this time she is _ravenous_ , and she growls, urging him closer with her heels, because she cannot, cannot get him close enough, and growls again in frustration. 

“What?” he pants, tearing his mouth away from hers. 

“I cannot get you close enough. Joined and so deep in my heart, yet, I need you _closer still_.” 

He lowers himself until their bellies are pressed together, until she is pressed into the bed, and Bella is triumphant, “I knew it, I knew I didn’t have all of you.” 

“Oh, but you do,” he says quite seriously, and Bella pushes his hair back so she can see him clearly, and his expression is so full of love. She traces the planes and curves of his face from brow to chin. 

“I know. As you have me.” 

He steals a quick kiss. “And you are sure I am not too heavy?” 

“Mmmmmm,” she replies, arching against him and shaking her head. She winds her arms around his neck and smiles. It is the strangest, most wonderful thing, to have him on her thus, heavy and warm, all but pinned to the bed but she feels so tender and powerful, the least thing from delicate, and still so very precious to him. 

“Husband,” she murmurs, tilting her chin up. “Come to me.” 

“Wife,” he gasps, and takes her mouth. “My wife. I can feel it, feel you wound tight and needful.” He moves inside her easily, strongly, making her sigh and gasp. 

“Hungry,” she agrees, biting at his mouth. He chuckles, deep in his chest. 

_“Hobbit.”_

Laughing through the kiss, she slaps at his shoulders and tugs his hair when his mouth wanders off from where she wants it, on hers. He growls, pressing his head against her hands for more and she obliges, tightening her legs around him and spreading her hands wide to get two large handfuls to tug gently. 

“Harder,” he growls, and she bites his lip and obeys, and his hips snap sharp against hers once, twice and it’s perfect, overwhelming in the best way, and she cries out, head thrown back. 

“Yes?” he pants, kissing her throat. 

“Yes, _please._ ” 

“You may not. Reach your peak. Like this.” 

“Oh I will _too_ ,” she snarls, suddenly contrary, plants her feet on the bed and pushes back as hard as she can. Thorin’s grin is delighted, the light in his eye near-feral again and he gives her all she has asked for and more, loves her slick and just hard enough, until she is shaking so she can barely meet his thrusts. 

She feels it, gold and silver sparkles of light gathering in, rushing down her cheeks and up her legs, feels it bright and certain and she shudders, hard, through the first wave of it, and Thorin shifts and grinds his hips against hers, roughly caressing her pearl, and it is perfect, so perfect, and she screams his name, or hopes she does, as she rises into light. Thorin cries out as if it is wrenched from deep within him, and presses against her, which causes several lovely jittering shocks, as he follows her over her peak. 

“My love, my husband,” she sighs, tightening arms and legs around him once more, still shaking. Her voice catches on a sob. “No, no before you ask,” because he has tensed instantly. “They’re happy tears.” 

“Sweet wife,” he murmurs, and kisses the tears away, and then her mouth. “Sweet, ravenous wife.” 

“Mmmm. I have found a bed and a feast of a husband, and intend to set up house.” 

“I know,” he whispers in her ear, softly, seriously. “It will cost you to leave the Shire. I will bring anything that can be borne away for you. Anything.” 

“I know,” she replies, stroking his hair. “I know you will.” She pauses and discards a handful of ways to explain why the pull of the Shire has lessened. “But, although he is portable, I am sure we will have to leave my gardner behind.” She sighs extravagantly, put-upon, and Thorin pulls back to look at her, brows raised. 

“I came to you with my hair unbound.” 

He looks at her, wonder on his face. “You truly did.” 

She nods. “The moment Fili and Bofur explained, and asked me how long I would rest with you….the answer was ‘forever.’” 

He kisses her tenderly, in that way that catches under her heart. 

“You thought you might have to talk me ‘round?” 

He drops his eyes. “Possibly.” 

“Whether we gain the mountain or not, my home is wherever you are. After all,” she wiggles her hips playfully. “I have my bed.” 

He snorts and kisses her again. “I feel sure the bed is not supposed to sleep on top.” 

“I think we might have shifted this one we’re in a bit. We might want to...um...” 

“A very sturdy bed. I shall make a note of it.” 

“Do.” 

They kiss softly for a few long moments, until Thorin finally says. “You will be sore, possibly, curled like this for too long, and as loath as I am to leave you…” 

“All right, love.” 

One last kiss and he withdraws, kissing her breast and belly as he eases back. He fetches the pitcher from near the fire, wipes himself down and brings a warm cloth for her, and insists tending to her himself. 

“You spoil me.” 

“I am the most fortunate of dwarrow, to have such a wife,” he says softly, and glances up at her with a sweet smile. “Such a treasure. And we are taught to tend carefully who and what we treasure.” 

Bella reaches for him. “And you are my _ghivashel_ as well, my love. So, come, rest by me.” 

He comes to bed and curls her close, a teasing smile on his lips. “You are the bed, now?” 

“Who better than hobbit to offer comfort?” 

“This is true,” he agrees as he shifts them, curls with head not on her breast, but resting on her arm. She gazes at him happily, sifting one hand through his hair. 

“I have a confession,” he says soberly. 

“What is that, my love?” 

“We shall have to be married a great deal longer for me to sleep thus.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because,” he says softly, his hand moving up her waist to her breast, as he moves in to kiss her cheek. “My beautiful naked wife, so delicious to touch, right next to me?” 

“Mmmhmmm,” Bella replies and cocks an eyebrow at him. 

He stays to kiss her slowly, and his hand moves gently on her breast, and her nipples tighten from his petting, and he strokes around one with the tip of his finger. “You see?” he murmurs. “Too many delights at hand to sleep.” 

“Mmmhmmm,” Bella says again, stretching under his hand and subsiding with a sigh, feeling boneless and glowing and pleasantly sore...and a few lazy tingles of interest. “You are just trying to get your way.” 

“Yes, in that you are deliciously arrayed in this bed, and very distracting to your new-wed husband.” 

“You could close your eyes. I hear that is helpful for sleep.” 

Dutifully, he closes his eyes, leans forward and takes her nipple into his mouth, where he suckles until she sighs and arches, her hand moving to keep him close. 

“Hmmm,” she says. “It seems you have put your other senses to work.” 

“Dwarrow work in near darkness.” He kisses between her breasts. “You see my dilemma.” 

“Well,” she snorts, “I’m sure I’ll be _feeling_ your dilemma soon. He groans against her breast, aggrieved. 

“I am sorry, the joke was _right there_ ,” Bella grins, stroking his hair. 

“Horrible,” he kisses her breastbone again, then leans up to kiss her mouth. “I am spent but not yet sated, sweet wife, but if you wish…it will be a bit before I we can join again.” 

“I can wait,” Bella says shyly, her hand on his cheek. “I _will_ wait to explore you further.” 

“Oh,” he kisses the palm of her hand, and there is a definite ache in his voice. “That _is_ something to look forward to.” He kisses the palm of her hand, her wrist, her fingers, her breast (he lingers there) and then her mouth. “Will you come rest by me, my wife?” 

“So sweetly asked, my husband.” 

Thorin nuzzles at her lips. “Only fair in that my wife is very sweet, until she is not.” 

“And when she is not?” 

“She is,” his voice lowers to a purr as he whispers in her ear. _“Magnificent.”_

Bella shivers. “ _Well,_ ”she says, her throat gone dry. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a nicer invitation. Yes, my love, I will.” 

Thorin gets them arranged to his liking in short order, Bella half-curled at his side, her head on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair. She stretches an arm across his chest, enjoys the contrast in their skin a moment, then spreads her hand wide to pet his chest hair gently. It is so soft, as is his skin, save scars scattered here and there. 

His chest hair wanders in a dark line down his his stomach, widening again low on his belly, and she strokes down that line of hair, enjoying the feel of him, so strong and solid beneath her hand. She kisses his chest absently. “Dearest one?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Aren’t you...isn’t your….isn’t _it_ , your...cock, supposed to…”

“Ah, I remain standing proud for quite a while, after.” 

“Oh. May I?” her fingers creep downwards, at the edges of the course hair around his cock. “I did say I’d wait.” 

“Mmmmmm,” he rumbles, like a great cat’s purr. He arches his hips lazily. “Please do.” He kisses her hair. “You seem to have the same difficulty as I had getting to sleep.” 

“It is an awful lot of temptation for a new-wed wife,” she murmurs, as she cups her hand around him. There is a loss of firmness, but he is still quite hard, and she pets him with the flat of her hand, and then decides to stroke him a bit. 

“This all right?” 

“Mmmm,” is his reply, and flexes his hips, moving into her touch. Bella shivers and tightens her hold, her thumb seeking that little spot….he groans softly, and grows firmer in her hand. Bella shivers again, muffling a little whimper against his chest. 

“Bella,” he breathes, his hips rolling into her touch, slow and sweet. “Are we sleeping?” 

“No?” 

“Do you _wish_ to sleep?” 

“I wish to keep touching you.” 

“Good,” he replies, voice rasping deep, and tips her chin up for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading darlings! Do please tell me if you liked it, if you liked it more than the Martin!Bilbo one....in other words, how did the different way things progressed for the different Bilbos worked for you. I'd really like to know. 
> 
> Now I have little excuse than to get back to the "big" stories, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> The scene at Rivendell: Bilbo overhears Gandalf and Elrond discuss the strain of madness (in addition to other things) in Thorin's family, and Elrond makes the point that no one can promise Thorin will not face the same fate. Bilbo turns to find Thorin standing behind him, overhearing the same thing. The look on his face, y'all. Weight of the world.


End file.
